Sunday Sunrise

The leafless trees across the way,
are stark abstracts against the
dawn of day.

The little squirrel who slumbers
in a crook amidst the limbs,
awakes exactly when
the sun ray’s fingers
gently fall upon him.

He stretches and he runs a bit,
back and forth along the limb.
Who knew that squirrels
were joggers too,
who run each dawning
of the day?

imageThere are few birds to herald
the rising of the sun,
the morning has a muted silence,
as Sunday is begun.

It’s the perfect time for prayer,
or meditation if you wish,
a time to thank the Father
for sunrises such as this,
a time to sip one some coffee
and enjoy the sun’s first kiss.

©Elaine Wood-Lane